


Waking the Dragon

by orlofthesky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Because Targaryens, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Incest, Love, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rhaenys lives, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-07 05:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlofthesky/pseuds/orlofthesky
Summary: “Are you quite sure you want this?”“My sweet, sweet Vis. I have never wanted anything more than this.”A collection of (mostly) smutty one-shots over the course of their life together.1: Fantasising about a Small Council meeting2: Five marriages they didn't consider and one they did3: Waking the dragons4: Quality time with the family in Dorne (feat. Oberyn/Arthur & the Sand Snakes)... TBC ...





	1. Morning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote this. It all started with a throwaway line in my Rhaegar/Lyanna fic, in a dream no less when Rhaegar mistakes Viserys and Rhaenys for himself and Elia, and I'm afraid I created a monster that has since developed a life of its own. There might be more to come, for all that I'm actually not that much into Incest and AUs these two are too tempting.

She awoke with a feverish cry. His body was curled around hers, his hair tickling her neck and his breath hot against her shoulder, this was not uncommon. One hand at her crotch, teasingly probing into her slick and swollen nether lips, and the other at her teat, possessively pinching her hard nipple … that was new, something she still had to get used to and never wanted to get used to at the same time. It felt like a dream she had been having for too long, yet she was awake, and she had since learned that she tremendously enjoyed waking up like this, hot and bothered on the brink between pain and passion.

“Good morning, my sweet,” he murmured into the nape of her neck before he bit down, gnawing and suckling, marking her. She would have to choose her dress wisely, covering every trace of what had come to pass lest they be discovered, all the while being fully aware that the evidence was right there on her body, to concealed but not to be erased. The thought aroused her to no end, she canted her hips back as if on instinct.

He entered her without hesitation. Their position was so intimate and loving but their coupling was forceful and uninhibited. She loved it, she decided, loved the sweet pain he inflicted, loved the predatory growl before he bit down again, loved the possessiveness in his eyes that devoured her whole, loved that he knew her well enough not to treat her like a fragile and blushing maiden, loved the markings his claws had left on her hips and her back, loved that he was hers.

“If I remember correctly you are to sit in at a small council meeting today,” he said, voice incredibly level, even though he was driving himself deeply into her core from behind. She nodded, shivering, not actually caring. “You will hardly be able to sit without squirming when we’re done here, I promise.” There was a threatening playfulness to his voice, a taint she was unable to resist.

“Damn you, Viserys,” she rasped, terribly close to the precipice already.

“You’ll have to act the perfect little princess, my sweet, attentive and demure, a fair and blushing and insipidly vapid maiden, simpering and innocent. All the while this will be all you’ll be able to think of, with your father and the old lords looking on while they’re rambling about taxes and marriage prospects and whatnot, and your mind will be drifting and you’ll be blushing and thinking of this …”

He pinched her nipple, brutally hard, revelling in her scream.

“… and this ...”

He pounded into her, fast and deep, biting into her shoulder when he hit the top of her cunt.

“… and this …”

He sweetly suckled on her earlobe while ghosting his fingers over her clit and her teat.

“I’ll be sitting across the room from you, and I’ll be watching you. Thank the Gods I’ll never be king! I might get terribly bored and tempted to play with myself instead, and this is what you’ll be wondering about when my hands aren’t on the table … is he, or isn’t he, and honestly you’ll want to be the one stealthily touching my cock, making me come in my breeches. But you … you’ll have to sit still and keep your back straight, no matter how much you want to rub your crotch into the chair pretending it was my face, and I might still come in my breeches because you’re glorious to behold and you’re even more beautiful when your cunt is sweet and wet.”

“Gods, Vis, I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He grinned cockily, biting her earlobe and applying more pressure to her clit, drawing out of her, just barely, and stilling the movement of his hips. “I know you, Rhae, never forget how well I know you. I can tell when you can’t take it any more, when you’re ready to excuse yourself, waiting for me to follow inconspicuously, when you’re ready to pull me behind a curtain and fuck me into the wall because I’ve woken the dragon. My beautiful, beautiful dragon.”

“Vis … Vis, _please_ …”

She was panting, she was pleading, moaning an incantation that became more frantic and more incoherent by the heartbeat - _Vispleasevispleasevispleasepleasevis_ -, desperately squirming and craving his touch; she was burning alive and he knew it, but he was keeping perfectly still, denying her release.

“And that, my sweet princess,” he continued conversationally before abruptly thrusting into her with more force than he had ever shown before, “That will be the exact moment when I’ll ask the king for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Rhaenys cried out when the world came crashing down around her, thrashing in his arms that only held her tighter, milking his cock with convulsions beyond her control, burning with pleasure and insatiable desire, sobbing his name for it was the only thing she could remember, the only thing that counted.

“You like the idea,” he commented quietly when their orgasm had ebbed away and his cock was starting to go flaccid inside her.

She smiled when she turned to face him. “You’ve been putting _way_ too much thought into this, you know.”

“I might have.” He smirked smugly, finally kissing her good morning with an ardent tenderness that was so unlike their preference for intensely ferocious and unrestrained coupling.

“I dare you, Vis, I dare you to actually do it.” She playfully smacked his arse, if only to detract from the agonising hope that was threatening to choke her. They had talked about this for way too long, conspiring and considering, plotting and promising, dreaming but never quite daring to follow through. The right moment they had been waiting for since long before they had found themselves unable to resist each other, she'd started to fear that it might never come.

“Just you wait, my sweet. Considering that this might be our last morning together before Rhaegar unleashes the wildfire on me, I’d rather put it into good use … I believe I’ve made something of a mess.”

With that he disappeared under the covers, starting to lick his seed from her cunt without inhibition until she writhed and shivered once again, clenching her legs over his head and pulling at his hair, her pleasure hot and heady on his tongue, as if the whole world was only the two of them. For but a moment, it was.

 


	2. We Didn't Start The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Viserys and Rhaenys wouldn't consider a marriage, and one time they did. Figuring out what they actually want and how they actually feel over the course of three-ish years between their return to the capital and their wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so thanks to your amazing encouragement my headcanon exploded and there will be more of this story, mostly smutty oneshots set in the same canon-divergent AU from [Rhaegar's dream in _The Poet and the Knight_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12107559/chapters/27452028). Might contain traces of plot.

**[1] Joycelyn Velaryon**

 

“I won’t marry the Velaryon girl.”

“Viserys, I’m not having this discussion.”

“I’m not discussing this, Rhaegar, I am informing you.”

“You have a duty to your family and the realm. You’re no longer a boy.”

“Well if I’m no longer a boy then I don’t have to do as I’m told, don’t I?”

He stormed out of the King’s solar, the lapels of his overcoat waving behind him, smashing the door closed behind him with an angry thud that even managed to startle the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Reining himself in, controlling his breathing and the fiery rage in his belly was difficult. Rhaegar had woken the dragon. It was only when small steps hurried up to his side that his temper calmed.

“What was that all about?” Rhaenys asked tentatively, taking his hand with a worried look.

He sighed, finally relaxing under the touch of her hand, the fiery anger in his belly making way for an inexplicable sadness. Instinctively, he pulled her closer, placing the softest of kisses to her forehead. “It’s alright, my sweet, it’s nothing” he whispered into her hair, desperately hoping he would be right.

 

* * *

 

 

**[2] Renly Baratheon**

 

Rhaenys stared them down incredulously. “He hates our whole family by default, yet you think it a good idea that I marry him?”

“We need to make amends with the Stormlands at some point,” her father pointed out and her mother – no, not her mother, _the Queen_ , for she was unwilling to think of her as any kind of mother figure when she was angry – seamlessly continued – and it unnerved her to no end, the harmony between them, so finely attuned to each other that they finished each others’ thoughts as if they were one single entity: “And what better way to make amends than a marriage?”

“And how, pray tell, are you planning to make amends with _me_ when I’m stuck in a loveless marriage with a man who despises me for who I am? All but held hostage on a castle in the least appealing kingdom of all?”

“Now you’re being dramatic, Rhaenys,” the Queen said, kindly as always but clearly annoyed.

“We wouldn’t have broached the subject had Lord Baratheon not been amenable to the idea,” her father chimed in.

“Right. Lord Baratheon.” she huffed, “I’m a princess, I’m the king’s _firstborn_ , and you’re marrying me to … what, the spare who became heir, a second son who would’ve been the third had you not slain the eldest on the Trident? Where does that leave me once Stannis has a child that pushes Renly down the line of succession?”

“I didn’t think such things were particularly important to you,” her father said, and there was something akin to disappointment in his expression.

“Well I do care if I’m to marry for political reasons,” she snapped.

“Rhaenys!” the Queen snapped back, her husband gently laying his palm on hers.

“There still is time to consider,” he relented, “Rhaenys hasn’t even flowered yet.”

“Get to know him first,” the Queen added, “You might like him yet. He’s terribly handsome, or so they say.”

“Didn’t they say the same about his brother?” Rhaenys said with all the fake sweetness and condescension she could muster, “You know, the one you refused because he was a brute, albeit a _terribly_ handsome and valiant one. The very same who brought civil war upon us when you chose my father instead?”

“Rhaenys!” her father bellowed, rising from his chair.

She retreated without waiting to be dismissed, knowing full well that she had overstepped the line by miles.

“Wait, Rhaenys,” the Queen called after her, and she reluctantly turned to face them once again, her face burning in shame. “Darling, I promise, you will have a choice in this matter. Is there anyone you’d rather marry?”

She had never even bothered to think about it, not seriously anyway, despite knowing that every princess must marry at some point and she wouldn’t be the exception to an age-old rule. But all of a sudden it hit her with a burning clarity that made her blood sing, and she wanted to slap herself at how blind she’d been not to notice what had been there all along: an option that wasn’t even an option, a choice that wasn’t even a choice. His name lay on her tongue like a secret she didn’t dare tell.

_Viserys._

 

* * *

 

**[3] Arianne Martell**

 

“You need to work on your reasoning before you mess this up even more.”

Viserys lifted his gaze, giving her a quizzical look. She had fled the dining hall just minutes after him, unceremoniously flopping herself on the bench next to him. The evening had been a disaster from the very beginning, and it had slowly but steadily gotten worse until he had to excuse himself lest he implode. Mindlessly staring out at the flickering lights of the capital and the blackness of the bay only calmed him so much.

“What?”

Rhaenys gave him a lopsided grin, prying the goblet of wine from his hands and taking a cheeky sip before she spoke. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for you not wanting to marry Arianne. Nobody in their right mind would want to … she’s Arianne, after all.”

Viserys gave a rare boyish laugh and Rhaenys chimed in with him, but only for a moment or so until the expression on her face went deadly serious again.

“You’re an idiot, Vis, you do realise that?”

Rhaenys shook her head, obviously exasperated that he still didn’t follow, and at that, Viserys could feel a tempest starting to brew in his innards. After the debacle over the dinner table, with Rhaegar being unreasonable and Lyanna being patronising, with Dany rolling her eyes at him and the little ones giggling, the last thing he needed was Rhaenys opposing him. She was supposed to be on his side, his loyal friend and staunch supporter, that’s the way things were. She who had always been his champion had held her tongue while he argued with his brother and good-sister, and now she was criticising him for some obscure reason. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

“You couldn’t possibly marry Arianne because she’s like a sister to you, because you’ve grown up with her, because you know her too well …”, she quoted back at him.

“As you said, she’s _Arianne_ ,” he snapped, taking back the goblet, “Seven _hells_!”

“Exactly. She’s a conniving bitch with some dubious agenda of her own, that should’ve been your argument, and I for all that I love her dearly I could think of a million more.”

He downed the wine in one fell gulp when realisation dawned upon him.

“Are you saying what I’m thinking you’re trying to say?”

She gave an awkward shrug.

“Rhaenys … don’t.”

A million moments came crashing down upon him. They were in the throne room, standing next to Balerion’s skull, and he didn’t care one bit that she _smelled Dornish_ , he awkwardly hugged her close and silently swore to protect her forever. They were on a ship to Sunspear, fleeing the chaos of Rhaegar’s Rebellion, holding each other in the tight confines of their stowaway cabin. They were in the Water Gardens, splashing in the fountains with not one care in the world. They were dancing at the prince’s annual ball on Sunspear, beaming at him when he told her she was more beautiful than Lady Nym who was widely considered the most beautiful young lady at court. They were fighting, he didn’t even remember why but it had been important, yelling and hurling insults at each other, and it had been horrible. They were out riding at night, pointing out the stars and making up ridiculous stories to go with them. They were at Elia’s side when she died, promising her to love and look out for each other forever now that she wouldn’t be able to anymore. They were in his new bed back in the capital, clinging to each other, frightened and lonely and unable to sleep in the unfamiliar environment. They were talking, all day every day, sharing everything that crossed their mind, and then they were silent for a long time, not needing words to understand each other completely. They were living a life together already. They knew each other too well, having grown up together, close as siblings but then again … _Seven hells!_

“I need you to consider that, in case you reconsider.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

She took his hand in hers, fearlessly.

 

* * *

 

 

**[4] Willas Tyrell**

 

Viserys’ voice was as charming as it was demanding, and of course the ever-polite Highgarden heir stepped back with a courteous bow when the royal prince demanded a dance with his beautiful and highly sought-after niece.

“Thank the Gods,” Rhaenys muttered with a taught smile, and he twisted her away at the musicians’ behest.

“Are you falling in love yet?” he muttered when she returned into his arms, “I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.”

“He’s a terrible bore,” she said, and then she pinched his upper arm, “and you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” Viserys’ nose crinkled the way it always did when he was lying, Rhaenys never failed to notice and she found it terribly endearing. “I’m worried, my sweet. Worried for your sanity if you’re to wither away as a rose, married to someone so dull.” He leaned closer with a conspiratorial whisper, his hot breath tickling at her ear, “Just imagine what he must be like in bed. Frightfully gentle. The type to close his eyes when he makes sweet, sweet love to you. You’d hate it.”

She would of course. The hurt in Viserys’ voice, for all that he was trying to conceal it with his usual acerbic wit and cynicism, that she hated even more. She hadn’t asked for all of this, for the feast and the dancing and the endless stream of suitors paraded before her, and she certainly hadn’t asked for whatever it was that was happening between her and Viserys. Either couldn’t be helped.

“My father has all but given up on finding you a suitable spouse. I might be able to convince him to take you with me when I’m married, the maiden uncle sworn to my service.” She gave him the sweetest of smiles. “And you’ll be my paramour.”

The innocent and adoring look she wore on her face like a mask became triumphant when he, skilled and talented dancer that he was, all but stumbled over his own feet.

“Willas Tyrell will be gentle and placid and boring, he’ll treat me like a fragile little flower that might break if you touch her,” she continued mercilessly, watching intently as Viserys’ jaw went square and his eyes went dark with something between lust and fury, and she found she enjoyed herself immensely, “He’ll keep his eyes closed, and even if he didn’t he’d lack the imagination …”

“Yes?” Viserys rasped, his voice deep and husky, urging her on.

“You’d be there, hidden somewhere in the shadows, standing there watching me.” She bit her lip before she could go on, breathless but certainly not from dancing, “And I’ll be watching you as you pleasure yourself, wishing it were your cock in me, wishing you would fuck me with more than your eyes, and the sweet summer child in my bed won’t be any the wiser, thinking I came for him.”

He pressed her closer to him as the tune ebbed away and the dance came to an end. She could feel his throbbing hardness against her thigh, and her gasp wasn’t surprised but thoroughly aroused. They didn’t dare look at each other when he took her arm to lead her off the dancefloor as the music changed and the dancing couples rearranged. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Willas Tyrell gazing at her longingly and Lancel Lannister bravely approaching her to ask for a dance.

“One more dance and you’ll come find me in the passage to the Hand’s Tower,” he snarled frantically, bending down towards her as they walked, “I’ll be there, hidden in the shadows, waiting for you with my cock in my hand.”

She gave him the sweetest of smiles before she turned to face the simpering Lannister lordling. “What a perfectly lovely dance. Thank you so much for indulging me, uncle.”

 

* * *

 

 

**[5] Daenerys Targaryen**

 

The king took great pride in the education of his princes and princesses. Since Jaehaerys had left for Winterfell it was only Viserys, Rhaenys, and Daenerys joining him in his solar for long afternoons of reading and intense debate; three equally brilliant albeit completely different young minds. He leant back in his comfortable chair, taking himself out of the conversation, listening intently to their arguments and the way they spurred each other on, tremendously enjoying what he was watching.

“I don’t understand. Why is a pure bloodline so important?” That was Dany and her insatiable yet still innocent curiosity.

“Because of this.” Viserys leaned over and tugged at her silver braid, giving her a playful little nudge before he pointed at their niece who was basically their sister, “Just look at what happens when Targaryens cross-breed.”

“I’m just as Targaryen as you are, thank you very much,” Rhaenys put in, taking the jest in stride with an air of condescension, “What I lack in looks I compensate in other traits like ...”

“Madness?” Viserys supplied with a wink and Rhaegar could hardly suppress a chuckle. _Seven hells_ , his sharp tongue would get that boy in trouble one day!

Rhaenys didn’t deign him with a reply, she instead launched into a thorough explanation of their family’s history, ancient Valyrian customs, and the politics of marriage and alliances. Rhaegar noticed proudly that her knowledge was thorough and her arguments were both sound and elaborate. He nodded to himself, not feeling the need to interrupt and correct but once, and that was exactly the point of his teaching.

“And why aren’t we upholding this custom any longer?” Dany inquired.

Rhaegar gave a wistful smile, he had long seen this question coming. He was about to explain about Shaena, the sister he would have married had she lived, about Elia and the necessity of an alliance and an heir, and about Lyanna, the love of his life, and the heart’s free will, but before he could even say ‘now listen, sweetling’, Dany continued.

“Why couldn’t I marry Viserys? That would be terribly convenient. I wouldn’t have to dance with clumsy Lancel Lannister anymore and you wouldn’t need to concern yourself with finding a good match for me!”

She sounded so convinced and so convincing, it was clear that his sweet sister, for all that she hadn’t flowered yet, had been putting a lot of thought into that matter. But there was something that startled him even more. A look of utter shock that passed between his brother and his daughter, and if he wasn’t mistaken he was clutching her thigh underneath the table and Rhaenys was biting her lip.

“Why would you want to marry Viserys, sweetling?”

“Because he’s my brother and I love him very much,” she said simply, and he lifted an eyebrow to urge her to continue, “I wouldn’t have to leave King’s Landing if I marry him. Also, he’s more handsome than Elbert Arryn.”

“There’s a difference between loving a brother and loving a husband, sweetling, you’ll learn that in time,” Viserys gently put in.

Now that he’d shifted the king could see it clearly and it made him sick to his stomach: his hand was firmly on Rhaenys’ thigh, so high up that it could only be interpreted as a possessive grip. Rhaenys only seemed to look at Dany, for actually she was staring into the void, looking intensely uncomfortable, her fingers intertwined in a tight clutch upon the table. _Gods_ … his mind was reeling, he didn’t want to be right on this.

“Dany, sweetling, would you leave us for a moment?” he said as levelly as possible, and the flicker of hope on her face nearly broke his heart; she was obviously assuming that he would reconsider and betroth her to her beloved big brother after all.

“You two.” They had since shifted apart, he was relieved to see. “What is going on?”

“What do you even mean?” Viserys retorted, frowning defiantly, and something about his attitude irked him.

He turned to his daughter instead. “Rhaenys, sweetling, are you alright?”

“What?” It seemed that she just snapped back into reality. “I was concerned that you would marry Dany to Viserys is all.”

She was obviously disturbed at the thought, and knowing full well that his brother had a ferocious and uncaring streak, he didn’t want to imagine what might have come to pass. But he had to, it was his duty as a father, as a brother, but first and foremost as a good man.

“Viserys, I’ll ask you only once: what have you _done_?”

“What?” His eyes went wide.

“Vis,” Rhaenys said, almost pleadingly, and once again Rhaegar found his heart breaking.

There was another silent and desperate look between them, and then Viserys jumped up, a fire raging in his eyes that burned even stronger when he stayed calm and collected, his voice as sharp as Valyrian steel. “I’ll thank you very much for not assuming that I – your own brother, the one you raised – am a vile creature who would be capable of doing such things. To anyone, let alone to the one person I love more than life itself.”

At that, Rhaenys stood, demonstratively taking his hand and melting into his side for a quick moment before she raised her chin in defiance to face her father. “I won’t divulge what we’re doing when the doors are closed, but I’ll have you know that I’m enjoying it very much and I’ll continue to do so.”

“What?” he spluttered, falling back into his chair. This couldn’t be _real_.

“I believe I’ve made myself _quite_ clear, _Father_.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for a situation that threatened to overwhelm him. He was a diplomat after all, well adjusted to reacting calmly and considerately to whatever it was that was thrown his way after a decade and a half on the throne. He had negotiated war and peace, but he had never felt so utterly helpless. If only Lyanna were at his side, she would know what to say …

“I purposefully chose to end this tradition. It might have secured our position for centuries, but it’s wreaked havoc on our family too, something I would never wish upon anyone I care for. I still remember my parents …”

“Don’t you dare, Rhaegar!” Viserys spat, “Don’t you dare compare _that_ to _anything_ , let alone this … _us_. I might not remember as much as you do, but I remember enough to know that it hadn’t anything to do with them being husband, wife, brother, or sister … he was _insane_.”

He had more to say, but couldn’t, for his voice was catching in his throat, thick with emotion and long-repressed memories. As if on instinct, Rhaenys’ hand went out to him, squeezing his forearm in a silent gesture of support and reassurance before holding his hand. It was blatantly obvious from their reaction that this could not be the first time they were standing together, holding on to each other when they needed it most … he knew the feeling after all, knew it too well, the way his hand autonomously reached out to his wife’s when he was troubled.

He relented, how could he not. “I had always wanted for either of you to marry for love … Of course we made some provisions, for not everyone finds themselves as lucky as Lyanna and I have been, but we decided early on that we want you to make your own choices.”

For all that he had meant that as an apology, an offering of peace or even a tentative first blessing, he should have accounted for them being the blood of the dragon. A dragon he had woken.

“And how is your choice better than ours, Father?” Rhaenys hissed. “And how dare you insinuate that your choice is of a higher worth only because you happened to fall in love with some random stranger?”

At that, Viserys burst out laughing. “Your marriage and your rule is built on the notion that you abducted and raped a helpless girl, you of all people shouldn’t be judging or casting blame.”

A wave of guilt surged over him, and once again he found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words in the face of his brother’s bitter cynicism.

"Please explain, for I wish to understand. What changed?"

He was quite aware what had changed all of a sudden. His darling daughter whom he'd cradled in his arms, weeping at the sound of her first cry, had a woman's body now, slender and soft, with supple hips and a small but unmistakable bosom, and his baby brother, the very same who was enthralled by dragons and toy knights and history books, obviously harboured some newfound appreciation for it. He wouldn't have wanted to think about it, glad that his first instinct of something untoward going on had been provenm wrong, but Rhaenys' crass words - he would've chided her for that, had he not been so perplexed - left precious little to the imagination. he shuddered, wondering how long this had been going on for and how blind he'd obviously been.

"Nothing changed," Rhaenys said matter-of-factly, "Nothing at all and everything at once."

"What Rhaenys is meaning to say ..." Vis interrupted, only to be interrupted by her exasperated glare.

"Shut up, Vis, I'm quite capable of saying what I mean myself," she snapped, an when she straightened her shoulders and faced her father again, addressing him with unapologetic determination, he truly saw her as an adult for the first time. "It's my perception that changed, not my affection, for I have loved him since the day I was born."

She had made peace, that much was clear. Viserys, not so much, he was still seething and keen on being belligerent.

“We have spent our whole lives together and you won’t tear us apart,” he went on, and all of a sudden the fierce glint went hard and vicious, “You started to bring up our parents so you’ll forgive me if I do. Remember Mother and how she found herself unwilling and unable to live without … _him_? That’s exactly what you’d be condemning me to if …”

“Yes.” Rhaenys gave a determined nod, stepping closer to Viserys’ side. “But let’s not be so drastic. Like it or not, we’ve been living as man and wife for the better part of a year, hidden in plain sight. I have no maidenhead to give to any future husband, not that it would matter, for my reputation will be tarnished beyond repair once this comes out.”

Rhaegar rose slowly, steadying himself on the table and schooling his face into what he hoped to be a serene but friendly expression.

“I believe you’ve made your point.”

 

* * *

 

 

**[6] Rhaenys & Viserys Targaryen**

 

“Rhaegar has just informed me that I need to tell you how much I love you before I take you to the sept,” he whispered hotly into the nape of her neck, wrapping his arms around her middle, smoothing the fine silk of her wedding dress, a flowing and enticingly sheer fabric the exact shade of his hair that contrasted her dark skin so very beautifully, until his hands just so happened to pause over the mound of her breast. With an absentminded flick of his thumb he started exploring what was so familiar to him, something he would never tire of; for all that he had come to her without any ulterior motive for once, only to offer some company and some words of encouragement, knowing full well that she would be just as nervous as he was, but he simply couldn't help himself ...

“Why would you?” she replied with a perplexed wrinkle of her nose, canting her head back and craning her neck until she managed to press a chaste kiss somewhere between his ear and his hairline, “Does he assume I do not know that already?”

Viserys’ laugh vibrated against her body, his ever-insatiable fingers squeezing her teat and teasing her rapidly hardening nipple through the layers of cloth, and then he stilled. “But I haven’t, haven’t I? Not yet, not once in all these years. Told you that I love you, that is. Because I do.”

She smiled. Her touch was ever so gentle, so unlike everything he enjoyed her doing to him, and yet it made him shiver with pleasure and anticipation. “And that’s exactly why we’re to be wedded in less than an hour,” she said airily before dropping her voice to a husky whisper, “and bedded shortly thereafter, and I shall provide you with plenty evidence of my undying love for you in case you need to be reminded.”

“Rhaenys,” he moaned when the back of her hand just so happened to brush over his groin, and he snatched it when he caught the wicked glint in her eyes, pressing a searing kiss to her palm. “Gods, you're perfect ... what have I done to deserve you?”

 


	3. Waking the Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up they had frequently shared a bed. It was all perfectly innocent until it wasn't, and there was no going back. Rhaenys and Viserys' first time ... and their second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm still writing this, and I'm happy you're appreciating the story ;-) Thanks for the reads and kudos and comments!

He turned away with a groan as soon as he could be sure she was fast asleep, flipping over in order to conceal what he was about to do, careful to hide his body under the sheets and not touch her by accident. Guilt washed over him as he slipped a hand into his smallclothes, gripping his achingly hard length and trying not to groan and writhe while he touched himself. The first time had been a nuisance, and now it had started to happen more and more often, regularly even. He willed himself to think of the last whore he’d visited, a readhead with a wickedly skilled tongue, but for all that her teats had been enormous and her body perfectly voluptuous it didn’t actually do anything to him. He yanked at his manhood with frustrated determination, eager to make it as fast as possible lest Rhaenys …

 _Rhaenys!_ He bit his lip, trying not to moan out loud. She had just shifted in her sleep, taking the bedsheets with her. Dornish silk in golden and orange hues that reminded him of home so much he could nearly smell the spicy sweetness of the summer air. The silk caressed her shape, blending so seamlessly with the warm tones of her skin that she appeared nude in the dusky night’s air. Viserys clenched his teeth, trying and failing to will the thought away, increasing the pace of his wrist. The sooner this was over, the better. He hated every moment of it, his weakness and his desire for the girl he was supposed to cherish and protect … and _love_ , but like a sister, never like _this_. He would have to face her by first light of morning, and he wouldn’t have slept for he didn’t dare touch her again and found himself restless when he didn’t.

He clenched his teeth, vowing that he would put an end to it on the morrow. It had been going on for way too long, spiralling out of control. She could no longer sneak into his bedchamber at night, sharing a mug of tea and talking until they fell asleep like they had done since they were children, he would have to forbid it, forcefully if need be. She wouldn’t like it at all and he already felt bad that he couldn’t explain and be honest with her. _We’re not children anymore_ , he would tell her, and that was _exactly_ the problem. He was a man nearly grown, she was a woman flowered, and for all that they were family they could not share a bed any longer. It simply wasn’t done. He could no longer bear this kind of intimacy that wasn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Vis.”

“What? I’m not doing anything!” Startled, he quickly withdrew his hand, tossing around to face her for all that it would have been better to run or hide or both.

“But I know that you are.” Her voice was husky and she flashed him a wicked grin, placing a hand on his chest so tenderly he wanted to scream. “We’ve been sharing everything for as long as I can remember, and even more over the course of the last year. You can share this with me if you want to.”

“Rhaenys,” he gritted out, clutching her hands to purposefully move them away from his body, “Please don’t. You have no idea what you’re asking, sweet summer child.”

She touched her fingertips to his cheek, softly tracing the contours of his face, twisting his earlobe between her fingers and worrying the tip of her thumb along his lower lip until he couldn’t take it any longer and caught it between his teeth.

“I believe I do. I’m asking you to love me, for I have loved you for a long time.”

She smiled down at him rather coyly while he was still reverently kissing her hand, trying and failing to rein in his growing pleasure. He didn’t even realise what it was exactly that she had been saying for it sounded perfectly right and normal to him. And then it hit him with a force.

 _I’m asking you to love me_. There was a glint in her eyes, clearly visible even in the twilight, that made it evident that she was well aware of what she was asking, and it wasn’t the love of an uncle who had always been more like a brother. There was something in the touch she initiated and her reaction to his lips on her palm that made him acutely aware of how much he had misread the whole situation. _I have loved you for a long time_ was a confession that held a secret, possibly the first and only secret they hadn’t shared, an affirmation that the illicit feelings that had crept upon him were reciprocated in kind. _You can share this with me if you want to_ \- ‘this’ being lust and mutual pleasure, he realised now that there had been no ambiguity in her choice of words. His breath caught.

“Rhaenys!”

He cried out her name, flipping her to her back and covering her body with his in one swift motion. Then he stilled to wipe a stray curl out of her face and behind her ear, fingers playfully lingering there for longer than was strictly necessary; his full weight was still on her while he gazed at her with fire in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“My sweet, sweet Vis.” She reached out to take his face into her hands, pressing a short and incredibly chaste kiss to his mouth. “I have never wanted anything more than this.”

When she threw back her head he licked at her throat, grazing his teeth along its delicate length. When she threaded her hands into his messy hair he acquiesced and moved lower, catching the hardened tip of her breast with his teeth. When she moaned out loud he grinned triumphantly. When he tore her flimsy nightdress she bucked in anticipation, clawing down the hems of his pants. When she touched her hand to his throbbing sex he reciprocated in kind, sucking and gnawing at her teat until she cried out and rubbing the apex of her thighs with quick fingers that were more desperate than skilled. When she cried out with pleasure he teased the nub at the top of her sex between his fingers. When he was done with kissing her teats he lowered his head to kiss her cunt ever so briefly, savouring her desire for him. Her hand clutched his hair, pushing his head down to where she wanted to have him.

He stilled right there, breathless and incredulous. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream, but instead he pinched her nipple. She bucked up, giving a delicious little whimper, and Viserys knew he was lost. The taste and scent of her aroused him to no end, a sensation so entirely alien and familiar at the same time, and judging from her reaction to his hungry kisses he wasn’t alone with that sentiment. Involuntarily he started rutting against her leg, in desperate need of some friction, until his subconscious informed him that it wouldn’t be enough. He sucked at her bud one last time, giving it a long stroke with his tongue and then a tiny nip with his teeth before he rose, leaving her bereft in her sweet cries of pleasure. In one swift motion he had aligned his lithe body over hers once again, pressing her hands over her head with one hand and fondling her teat with the other, and the intention in his eyes was unambiguous.

“Yes?”

“Hells yes!”

It was all that he needed: her face flushed, her eyes burning, her mouth ajar, her cunt wet, her consent clear. He drove himself into her without warning, and whether her scream was from pain or from pleasure she couldn’t quite say. He stilled long enough for it to subdue, then he shifted his hips, eliciting another sharp cry from her parching lips, all the while rolling his fingers over the hard pebbles of her teat.

“Vis ...” she groaned breathlessly, moaning against his mouth.

He hadn’t been sure what effect he was aiming for, but this could quite possibly be it. He hitched one of her legs over his, pressing a thumb to her mound and rubbing it in the same rhythm of his thrusts, watching her every move with fire burning in his eyes. The sweet playfulness had dissipated, her small hands were desperately clawing at the small of his back, bruising deliciously and possibly leaving a scar or two as a memento of this very moment. The thought alone made him shudder and cry out, pounding her harder into the mattress, twisting her slick and swollen nub between his fingers in sync with the movement of his body.

Rhaenys was glorious, writhing in the sheets, her dark skin covered in perspiration and gooseflesh, her pupils blown and her mouth half-open, panting, rendered completely incoherent save for his name, the one thing she repeated over and over again as if it were a prayer or an incantation. “Viserys!” when she threw her head back, canting her hips to meet him halfway, her eyes fluttering shut and her inner muscles clenching around his cock with the rhythm of their heartbeat.

Neither of them was holding back any longer, they were perfectly attuned to each other having found a single-minded purpose in their pace. Their eyes were locked, watching each other intently, and at some point he felt as if he had ceased to exist, merging into one single entity that was completely _them_ , inseparable as they had always been and yet so much more, forever one fire and one blood. Was it this thought that made him climax, or was it the way her fingernails clawed into his arse, drawing him impossibly close as she found her release, he couldn’t say. It wasn’t important. What was important was her otherworldly sated smile when she laid her head down on his shoulder and the feeling of her inner muscles still clenching around his softening cock.

“I’ve dreamt of this for a very long time,” she admitted quietly, still breathless when they finally disentangled their bodies. “A year at least.”

“I win, then.” He swallowed, still feeling intense guilt at the illicit emotions and desires he had tried so hard to conceal.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Vis,” she admonished, “We’re together, that’s all that matters. This – _us_ – this was bound to happen sooner or later, one way or another, it has been happening for a long time and you know that as well as I do. Nothing has changed except everything has changed and we’re still together.”

He kissed her then, and for all that he been rough and impatient with her before he was oozing tenderness now and he didn’t even try to conceal the tears that were welling up in his eyes when he pulled her close, intertwining their legs as they had always done. All of a sudden he felt inherently guilty. He was no stranger to pleasures of the flesh of course, but Rhaenys … she was a maid, a lady, a princess, and he had taken liberty. He vividly remembered Surena, the whore who had been tasked to educate him in sexual matters, telling him with an unnervingly motherly expression that of course it was alright when he was rougher with her, when he asked her to be rougher with him, _but remember, my prince,_ _proper ladies of the sort you will marry one of these days might not appreciate it. It will be your prerogative of course_ _if you so wish_ _, but a lady_ _truly_ _prefers a gentleman … a gentle man._ Had he misjudged Rhaenys’ reactions? He faltered, blushing in embarrassment.

“Did you like it?” he blurted out, “I’m afraid I should have been more gentle …”

She laughed out loud, swatting his bum so hard he winced and shivered, feeling his loins tightening again. “My sweet Vis,” she said, running her hand over the place she’d struck, stroking the reddening pain away, “I trust you.”

In that very moment these three words meant more than a declaration of love, and Gods, did he love her! He growled, burying his face between her teats, drinking her in, and next thing he knew her hands were on his manhood, coaxing the half-hard flesh into submission, grinning more and more at his every gasp.

“Viserys,” she said, and it was all she had to say.

“Trust me again,” he whispered, and it was a demand.

He flipped her over, kneeling behind her with an appreciative gaze over her perfectly shaped arse and her slender hips, and he couldn’t resist giving it a little slap. She winced, and when he rested his palm right there he could feel her pushing back at him. Gods! His eyes went wide when he realised that she wanted this as much as he did. He slapped her again, not much harder, and this time she moaned.

“Blushing maid my arse,” he rasped when he leaned forward, giving her shoulder a tantalising little bite.

She pushed back, rubbing her buttocks against his groin, making him yelp, muttering something into the pillow.

“What did you say?” he asked, encircling her torso to fondle her teats again.

“Wake the dragon, Viserys.”

Her voice was demanding, her breathing erratic. His slap was hard, her scream was ecstatic. He slapped her arse again, and his hand immediately went to her cunt, dripping from her arousal and his seed. With a sense of urgency he rubbed her folds, plunging a finger into her cunt and circling his thumb against her sweet puckered arse, and when he reluctantly let go of his own manhood it was only to slap her again.

“Vis, please!”

Never had he ever heard anything so delicious, so unearthly. He teased the tip of his cock over her entrance, grasping her shoulder for leverage before he plunged himself into her again. He moaned with pleasure as he met her tight heat, fucking her into the featherbed from behind, one hand squeezing her teat and the other leaving bloodied scratches on her shoulder and her back while she stifled her cries into the pillows. He could feel her tightening around him, and he was close, so close …

“Viserys, stop,” she panted, and he did, though it cost him every drop of self-control.

“There’s something I want you to know,” she said, and something in her voice reassured him that she hadn’t asked him to stop out of discomfort or even pain … pain of the _bad_ kind. But he still pulled out of her.

“What?” he gasped

All of a sudden he was lying on his back with her towering above him, grabbing his wrists and pinning him onto the bed while she lowered herself onto him. There was a predatory twinkle in her eyes he couldn’t quite place, and it was quite obvious that she, too, was struggling for coherence and enjoying it very much.

“When you were touching yourself … I wasn’t asleep.”

“I realise,” he groaned.

She leaned forward to kiss him, whispering, “And I’m not talking about tonight.”

“Rhaenys,” he groaned, biting his lip or was it hers, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said huskily, sighing as she rolled her hips, once, twice, and then again, driving him closer to the precipice, “I did the same, night after night.”

He stared at her incredulously as her small hand went to her centre, vanishing into her slick curls with a single-minded purpose, and she stared right back at him. “Do it.”

And he slapped her arse, making her fall onto him deeper than she’d ever been before, making him moan. And then he slapped her again, making sure to hit the crack of her arse instead of the cheek this time, and as her cry of ecstasy subsided he ran his finger over the puckered flesh of her back entrance, making her writhe and whimper again. But she was determined.

“I _pleasured_ myself, Vis, and I want you to _know_ ,” she said without a trace of shame in her voice, rubbing her hand to her centre as if to make a point, “I touched myself, waiting for the day you’d be brave enough to touch me.”

The slap hit her hard and immediately, making her clench around him. She smiled sagely as she continued, “I stole glances at you, waiting for the day you’d be brave enough to ask me to touch you.”

He groaned, thrusting his hips up at her, leaving a deep scratch on her back that made her shiver with pleasure. When she touched her teat, worrying the hard and dark tip between her thumb and her forefinger, he couldn’t take it any longer. He surged up to take it in his mouth, licking and sucking and pulling her closer, and something in his movement must have triggered her lust. She came with a cry, bucking down on him with abandon, pulling his hair and biting his neck, and he spilled himself into her for the second time that memorable night, sucking hard on her teat while they rode out their pleasure.

“Rhaenys,” he groaned, falling back into the cushions, utterly debauched. “You’re incredible. Gods … how do you even do that?”

“I know you just as well as you know me,” she grinned, kissing him softly, “Thank you for not treating me like a blushing maid.”

“But you were … were you?” He searched her with his gaze, eyes wide, belly filling with an unanticipated dread, “Gods, Rhae …”

When she slapped his cheek ever so softly he found he liked it. When she kissed the tip of his nose with a playful grin he found he loved it.

“Stupid, jealous Vis … of course I was! I’m a perfectly well-behaved princess after all …”

He wrapped his arms around her, lazily caressing her swollen teats as he pulled her close. A sense of triumph fulfilled him until it didn’t, kicking him in the gut with a force unknown. He pulled her even closer.

“I’ve taken your maidenhead. You’re stuck with me now, you shall never marry another.”

She fidgeted in his arms, turning to face him sternly with her chin rested on her hand. “Is this one of your possessive tantrums again? Like the way you used to lick at all the peaches just that Arianne won’t want to have them anymore, even though you hate peaches? Tarnishing my reputation because you’re jealous and want to spite your brother? Seriously, Vis ...”

Something in his chest clenched. He shook his head meekly. She deserved to know the truth, a truth that was as all-consuming as his desire for her, and it ran even deeper than that. He had never admitted it before, not even to himself.

“This is me, utterly terrified of losing you, breaking at the thought of having to spend the rest of my life alone when … I couldn’t bear it, Rhae, I couldn’t.” He lifted his hands to her face, cupping her cheek, unblinking as he met her gaze. “For what it’s worth, Rhae … This is me, asking you to marry me … if you’ll have me.”

She sighed deeply, resting her forehead against his. “I won’t even deign that with an answer. It should be fairly obvious.”

“Rhaenys ...”

“Yes, Viserys. Yes sevenfold. Yes to you, yes to us.” She grinned against his lips. “But you’ll be the one to tell my father.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He chuckled, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Do you realise we never even kissed before?” she murmured into his collarbone, “Do you think we’re doing that all wrong?”

He studied her intently, gazing at her breasts half-hidden between locks of reddish-brown hair and crumpled bedsheets, tracing the curve of her hip in admiration, shivering at the way she was worrying her plump lower lip between her teeth. She was right, he realised. The first time he properly kissed her, feeling her lips against his while their breathing aligned, exploring the heat of her mouth with his tongue, tasting the sweetness that was uniquely her … that was only after he’d sheathed himself deep within her body, forever claiming her as his.

“I never did dare, I was too afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop,” he admitted quietly, “And every time I kissed your hand or gave you a peck on the cheek was pure torture.”

She laughed against his lips, a soft nibble and a gentle flick of her tongue. “So you deliberately chose to kiss my cunt before you kiss my lips. Makes perfect sense.”

“You weren’t complaining,” Viserys grinned cheekily, meandering a hand down her flank so lazily it made her shiver, “You have to admit, it makes the idea of a bedding before a wedding sound terribly conservative … boring even.”

“It’s our Dornish side,” Rhaenys smirked, and then her expression changed. “Viserys, I need to ask something of you,” she said seriously, “I know how paranoid you are about siring a bastard, so it’s safe to assume you have easy access to moon tea.”

“Rhae ...” His face fell when a wave of inexplicable emotions surged over him.

“I need you to provide me with some come morning,” she said, and then she realised the fraught emotions written all over his face. She touched her hand to his face, gently stroking his cheek, and the warmth in her eyes was nearly unbearable. “Of course I want your children, silly. Only I want you for myself first … I want a couple of years when it’s just us, I want to travel the world with you, I want us to build our own home, I want …”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Viserys rasped, hugging her tight on instinct.

Four years her senior he remembered vividly what she didn’t: Elia nearly dying in childbed with Rhaenys, so weakened that she was unable to care for her newborn daughter and so broken by that fact that she very nearly lost all will to recuperate, and then, three years later, Rhaegar, the brother he looked up to for his strength and valour, screaming and weeping with despair when the maester informed him that it was unlikely that Elia or Aegon would survive the night, and when they did against all odds it became clear that Aegon would never be able to lead the life of a normal boy and Elia was so scarred that she would never be able to carry a child again. The memories scared him out of his mind, he was tempted to jump out of bed and fetch the moon tea straight away.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Rhaenys said softly, twisting a lock of his hair between her fingers, and the haunted look on her face informed him that in fact she was, “We still have time, Vis, and plenty of it. We can make an informed decision whenever we feel like we’re ready for children. And if it’s not safe to have any, if it’s just the two of us for the rest of our lives, so be it. We’ll be perfectly happy. It’s not like we had any duty to the crown, my father is _quite_ adept at making his own heirs in case you haven’t noticed … we can be the crazy aunt and uncle on Dragonstone and we’ll never be lonely.”

Never had he ever felt that much relief. He curled around Rhaenys, enveloping her in a tight embrace and placing a soft kiss onto her hair. She was still snuggling closer, seamlessly folding herself into every nook and cranny of his body, and for all that they had slept like this many times growing up, feeling her naked skin against his was new and it was wonderful. He sighed, and the sigh crawled on to become a yawn.

“Shall we go to sleep now?” she murmured before she deliberately gyrated her hips, rubbing her arse against his groin, “or is there anything else you’d rather do?”

Laughing, he caught her earlobe between his teeth.

 


	4. What About Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys has returned to Dorne after three years in the capital. A lot has changed but her cousins are still as insufferable and as observant as ever. Trigger warning for lack of smut in this chapter. ;-)
> 
> I dedicate this chapter to my cousins: a dozen idiots I want to throttle every other day even though I love them to pieces.

The early morning light was squinting through the ornate windows and Sarella constantly toppled her chair to the annoyance of everyone else in the room. She was chewing at a date in a rather unladylike fashion, and then she kicked Rhaenys under the table. “Pray tell, why did you not invite us to the wedding?”

“What?!” Rhaenys stared at her cousin incredulously, nearly choking on the blood orange she was suckling.

“Your wedding,” Sarella insisted, furrowing her brow in equal confusion.

Rhaenys laughed. “Is the Dornish sun doing something weird to my head or have you misplaced your brains since our last meeting? I’m not married, you idiot.”

“But I thought …” Sarella nibbled daintily at a piece of fruit, tilting her head from one side to the other in thorough consideration. “In Westeros, in the North, you need to have a wedding when you love someone. You can’t take a lover or a paramour unless you’re properly married, so as far as I know most people choose to have a wedding before and not after they fall in love.”

“Your point being?” Rhaenys retorted, rolling her eyes ever so slightly. Sarella and herself were of one age but right now she was acutely aware of how childish her cousin was; for all that she was curious and clever there was a certain innocence about her, an immaturity that didn’t quite compute with her precociousness. Rhaenys wasn’t even feigning ignorance, something she’d perfected ever since she lived at court; she honestly had no idea what Sarella was getting at.

By now everyone in the room was staring at her; characteristic Martell stares that were as intense as they were intimidating. It was Nym who finally took mercy, giving a dramatic huff as she leaned back, making a big show of crossing her arms and tutting at her younger cousins with slight condescension.

“Don’t be obtuse, Rhae. Unlike our sweet sister here you’re a woman grown and flowered.”

“Oh, _that_. There have been talks of course … Renly Baratheon, Willas Tyrell, Humfrey Hightower … but nothing has been decided yet. I’m certain my father will find a good match for me, and I’ll be sure to let you know in time for the wedding.”

“ _Three_ husbands?” Sarella gasped, giving an incredulous laugh, “Gosh, I thought people up North disapproved of such things!”

“Fuck’s sake, Rhae,” Arianne interrupted, “It’s been a sennight already and you still haven’t purged yourself of King’s Landing.” She shook her head with pity and exasperation. “Even Uncle Arthur is more at ease than you by now and he’s the Lord Commander of the bloody Kingsguard with a greatsword up his arse by default.”

Rhaenys blushed. Arianne was right of course. She was so glad to be home at long last but after living and breathing the capital for what seemed like an eternity even though it had been nary three years she found herself unable to relax. Accustomed to wearing the princess persona she had become a wholly different person, a person she sometimes wasn’t sure she liked, and she secretly envied Uncle Arthur. He had shedded his white cloak sometime during the passage on the ship that had taken them south and seamlessly transformed - reverted, actually - into a genuine Dornishman who was generous with his laughter and his affection even though Lord Commander Dayne, the famed Sword of the Morning, had a reputation of being stern and aloof at all times. He was smiling openly now, joking with his favourite daughter whom he’d referred to as ‘Lady Nymeria’ without exception when she’d visited the capital a year earlier, never once allowing for any trace of familiarity unless it was behind firmly closed and heavily guarded doors, unapologetically eating whatever he fancied from Uncle Oberyn’s plate, acting like a besotted lordling rather than a grown man who’d been with his mate for nigh on three decades, making sure to deliberately brush his arm or the back of his hand every time he reached over.

“Spit it out, Rhae,” Arianne demanded, “What’s going on with you and Vis?”

“I’m right here you know!” Visenya piped up indignantly and Rhaenys could have hugged her. She loved her sister fiercely for all that they weren’t particularly close due to the age gap and the fact that they hadn’t grown up together. If she were entirely honest to herself all her Dornish cousins felt more like true sisters to her than her younger half-siblings. Right now she could have throttled all of them, though, knowing full well that assaulting a Sand Snake was never a good idea.

“Not you, sweetling. _Viserys_.” Nym hid her laugh in a cup of tea, stealing another sweetcake from her father’s plate while he generously pretended not to notice.

“Why don’t you run off and do some more exploring instead of picking at your food?” Rhaenys suggested, “And make sure to kick Dany out of bed while you’re at it, it’s a beautiful day after all.”

Visenya pouted a little before she acquiesced. She knew better than to disobey Rhaenys’ patronising big sister voice.

“Oooh!” Arianne raised her eyebrows. “She doesn’t _know_!”

“Of course she doesn’t!” Rhaenys hissed, watching her sister leave.

“So there _is_ something to know after all.” Arianne clapped her hands in delight.

“Good for you,” Nym said, licking syrup from her fingers, “And here I was thinking you’re still a little girl … but you’re a Dornishwoman after all.”

Sarella stared, intrigued. “Why would your sister not know if you’re married?”

“Because they’re not, silly!” Arianne rolled her eyes. “They’re having a _tryst_.”

“What’s a tryst?” Sarella asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“Yes, Rhae, do put us out of our misery and explain,” Nym cooed.

Rhaenys only glared at her cousins.

“It involves a frightful lot of blushing, obviously,” Arianne giggled.

“Blushing _and_ kissing,” Nym added gleefully, “and hiding in plain sight and acting ridiculous in general. Do you really think ...”

“Oh shut it, stupid!” Obara cried, throwing her spoon down with an audible clunk, “You’re no better than a gaggle of vapid little bitches at court, all of you. Rhae and Vis are fucking, so what? In other news, so are they.”

At that, Obara wagged her finger at the only two men in attendance, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she was pointing out the obvious. Rhaenys couldn’t help but feel grateful for her stern words delivered with a flippant nonchalance that gave her a sense of normalcy in the midst of all the ostracism she faced, even more so because Obara, being ten years older, had never before cared enough about her to take her side in anything.

“Well,” Sarella said, triumphant in her precociousness, “That’s what Targaryens do. Brothers and sisters marry even though the Faith doesn’t allow it. Tyene said so only yesterday. And when you marry you fall in love and then you fuck. It is known.”

“Vis isn’t my brother,” Rhaenys protested, regretting it as soon as the words had left her mouth.

“Of course not,” Arianne put in, “He’s your very favourite uncle. Close enough, considering you’re only _half_ Targaryen after all.”

Nym reached across the breakfast table, gently patting Uncle Oberyn’s hand. “I hope you’re not too disappointed, Papi. You used to be her favourite uncle after all …”

“Well, I’ve gotten used to being your second favourite father so I guess I can cope with being demoted to second favourite uncle,” Uncle Oberyn commented dryly; it earned him a hearty laugh from Nym and a playfully chiding slap onto the back of his head from Uncle Arthur.

“Are you in love?” Sarella asked with genuine curiosity, “Because you’re not much older than me and Papi said I’m too young to know what love actually is.”

“He’s a bloody hypocrite then,” Obara stated, turning to her parents, “How old were you actually when you got together? Two-and-ten? Four-and-ten?”

“Young enough not to know any better,” Uncle Arthur chortled, mirth twinkling in his purple eyes, “and old enough to know how everything works … him especially. We had Nym when I was barely older than Viserys.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Seven _hells_!”

“Seven hells indeed,” Nym smirked affectionately and then she pointed to her sister. “That means he sired that one, on a whore no less, when he was Rhaenys’ age.”

“As I said. Bloody hypocrite,” _that one_ , namely Obara, remarked scathingly.

“I’ll thank you to remember that being in a whore and being in love are two entirely separate matters,” Uncle Oberyn remarked, as if to make it even worse.

“So are you in love?” Sarella insisted.

‘ _Are you in lu-uuurve?’_ Obara mimicked with a toneless sneer, making a stupidly childish face, and Sarella defiantly stuck her tongue out at her oldest sister.

“Despite all odds we still are. Very much so, in case you haven't noticed,” Uncle Arthur said unfazed, taking Uncle Oberyn's hand and threading their fingers together. For a fleeting moment, when she caught the conspiratorial wink in his laughing purple eyes, he might have become Rhaenys’ favourite uncle.

“Of course _you_ are, you’re our _parents_!” Sarella scoffed, “You’re _supposed_ to love each other! But Rhaenys … are you?”

Rhaenys cringed. She lowered her gaze, staring at her lap, unable to conceal her furious blush. She found herself at an utter loss for words, way too embarrassed to be enraged. It took all her willpower to resist the urge to leap up and run out of the room, sobbing like a babe after she’d screamed them down like a harpy. _Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken._ Would that the ground split open and swallow her whole with fire and blood and _everything_.

Uncle Oberyn leaned over, nudging Uncle Arthur’s side with a sly wagging of his dark and bushy eyebrows. “You owe me, my love. You owe me big time.”

Rhaenys gasped incredulously. “You … you _wagered_? I don’t believe you people. You’re impossible, all of you!”

Uncle Arthur shrugged apologetically, and Rhaenys knew it was genuine. Uncle Oberyn though …

“I hope the prize is worth it,” she snapped at him.

“I’m sure it’s something you’d enjoy doing to your favourite uncle as well,” Arianne put in unflinchingly.

Rhaenys tossed a date in her direction, that should be answer enough, and she felt only a tad triumphant when it got stuck in her hair before tumbling down her cleavage, making Arianne squeal in disgust. All three Sand Snakes winced in unison, albeit for an entirely different reason; for all that they weren’t exactly prudish in nature picturing their parents in bed doing something, _anything_ else than sleeping and maybe reading stories and singing songs like they had done when they’d all been much younger was a line they’d rather not cross, that much was certain.

“What’s all that talk about favourite uncles?” Viserys came sauntering into the room, in a terribly good mood but totally unaware of the situation at hand. He winked at Rhaenys as he made his way to the buffet, loading a plate with fruit and sweetcakes.

Rhaenys tried and failed to stifle her groan.

“Good morning, Viserys,” Arianne said pointedly, “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you,” Vis said cheerfully and Rhaenys groaned again. They had slept well enough, but not much, and his hair was still a mess. A blatantly obvious mess, given the circumstances.

“Won’t you kiss your favourite niece good morning?” Sarella asked, and if she hadn’t known better by now Rhaenys would’ve mistaken her innuendo for innocence.

He furrowed his brow in confusion and breathed a chaste peck on the top of her curly head before he set his plate onto the table and settled down at Rhaenys’ side.

“I’m not your niece, stupid!” Sarella cried.

“Are you not?” Viserys grinned, taking a sip of tea.

“ _Rhaenys_ is your niece,” Sarella declared haughtily, “I’m your cousin … or something.”

“Apologies, my dear, but in fact … my beloved elder brother is the good-brother to either of your fathers, which does make me your uncle … _or something_.” He leaned back, his grin growing more cocky by the minute while everyone in the room was barely able to contain their giggles, “I certainly wouldn’t presume to be your favourite, if you like Doran better that’s your prerogative of course, but your uncle I am.”

Sarella gave him a scathing, hawk-like stare that was all Oberyn, and then her face scrunched. “Ew!”

“Seven hells, Vis, do put us all out of our misery and kiss her already!” Obara snarled.

The expression on Viserys’ face turned confused ever so slightly, Rhaenys noticed while she tried not to glance at him, and then – finally, fucking finally – the pieces fell into place in his mind, too.

“If you insist.” He turned over and demonstratively kissed Rhaenys’ cheek with an almost theatrical smack. “Good morning to you, _niece_.”

“And to you, _nuncle_ ,” Rhaenys replied airily, carving into an orange with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Oh really? That’s all?” Arianne huffed.

At that Rhaenys snapped, unable to rein herself in any longer. She touched to Viserys’ arm, her expression so apologetic it was almost pleading, and then she lifted her hand to his cheek, pulling him in for a demonstrative and painfully awkward kiss that was so different from their actual good morning kiss as the Water Gardens were from Maegor’s Holdfast. She could feel his breath catch and his heart stop but she didn’t falter, determined to see this through and make her point even if nothing good would come from it. Somewhere in the fray she could hear a slow clap and she was sure that Uncle Oberyn was to blame.

“There,” she hissed, “Are you happy now?”

Nym gave her the brightest of smiles. “Are you?”

“We are, thank you very much,” Viserys stated as if nothing had come to pass and Rhaenys couldn’t have been more glad for his stoic non-reaction.

“So why are you not married yet?” Sarella asked, “And why do you eat your sweetcakes without syrup, are you an animal?”

“Because animals that eat sweetcakes without syrup aren’t exactly marriage material for a royal princess,” Viserys retorted, his mouth full.

“He has a point there, you know,” Uncle Oberyn said sweetly.

Rhaenys guffawed. It was good to be home after all.

 


End file.
